


We Didn't Break, We Didn't Burn

by ThatAloneOne



Series: I Won't Give Up On Us [2]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Carmilla as Padmé, F/F, Fake Character Death, Fluff, Force-Sensitive Carmilla, JEDI AU, Laura as Anakin, MARRIED HOLLSTEIN, Marriage Proposal, Star Wars AU, The Dean as Palpatine, also Elsie as Hondo, feat. LaF and Perry as R2D2 and C3PO, tbh a lot of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-27 06:19:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8390497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatAloneOne/pseuds/ThatAloneOne
Summary: Senator Carmilla Karnstein gets married to Jedi Knight Laura Hollis, but there's only so long they can be happy before Supreme Chancellor Lilita Morgan sends Carmilla on an undercover mission to find a being that's making people disappear. Carmilla fakes her death, and becomes bounty hunter Mircalla.Carmilla pushed it back, gently. “Cutie, you’re already my life. I don’t need to hold your lightsaber to prove it."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prequel to Even The Stars, They Burn, and a sequel to A Beautiful Sunrise, but it can be read independently. Title (and series title) from I Won't Give Up by Jason Mraz.
> 
> Also, for those of you unfamiliar, 'spice' is Star Wars for drugs. Since you can't use Republic Credits in some shady planets, pirates sometimes demand payment in spice instead.

Since Carmilla didn’t have any more pokers to spare and Laura was adamant that she learn how to properly protect herself with household items, they chose a chair. They’d broken it the previous night, and Laura the forever savour insisted that they make _some_  use of it. She felt guilty for wrecking a perfectly good chair, but then again, she hadn’t been complaining at the time. 

It was interesting, to spar again after all these years. And the chair legs _hurt_  when they hit, not like the old training sabers that used to buzz on her skin. They were solid, heavy items, and they hit like it. 

Laura showed her how to parry, how to block, how to gauge her opponent with her abilities. That was the one lesson Maman had never been able to teach her. Carmilla had always had the sense she was at the very least mildly Force sensitive, but she had never admitted to it. Carmilla was left on her own to figure out how to manipulate it. She wasn’t very good at it, for obvious reasons. 

When Carmilla’s arms ached and her legs were stinging, she lowered her chair leg and tried to shake out her arms.  

“En garde,” Laura said playfully, and set her chair leg against Carmilla’s, crossing it into a parry. There wasn’t any force in it, so even Carmilla’s tired arms didn’t shiver. Carmilla leaned in and kissed her between the swords. “Not like that, Carm."

“What, you want to break another chair?” Carmilla twisted her stick around, making a lazy swing at Laura’s legs that she blocked without a second thought. "My, my, Laura, whatever happened to your Jedi sensibilities?”

For once, Laura didn’t take the bait. She took the chair leg from Carmilla’s hands, and set the both of them down on the floor. She hugged Carmilla. There was something so reassuring about simple human contact — with Laura, there were never any strings. Laura touched her because she _wanted_  to, not because she wanted something. It was all that Carmilla had ever wanted.

“My Jedi sensibilities are telling me you’re tired,” Laura told her. Carmilla laughed into Laura’s hair. “Do you want to stop?”

“If it wouldn’t break your heart, creampuff.” Carmilla wandered over to one of her armchairs and stretched. Most of her muscles snagged, and she tried not to wince. “I know how you feel about protecting me." 

Laura rolled her eyes at Carmilla and joined her in the armchair, their legs all tangled together. The light streamed in through Carmilla’s huge windows, the last of the sunlight streaming through Coruscant’s thick atmosphere. “Besides the lightsaber, do you know anything else about the Force?”

Carmilla shook her head. It was still a sore point. “No.” She traced a hand down Laura’s cheek, smiling when Laura turned into the touch. “Are you going to teach me?” 

Laura looked at her. She was soft and warm and nothing like a Jedi when she had that _look_  in her eyes. “Do you want to learn?”

“Anything for you, cutie.” 

Laura snorted, knowing how closely Carmilla always studied her use of the Force. The fact Carmilla hadn’t asked until Laura had offered was frankly, amazing. “Alright. Watch."

Carmilla watched with fascination as the lightsaber flew across the room, landing solidly in Laura’s hand. Laura tucked the lightsaber in between them, shockingly cold. “So you just grab it?" 

“It’s not so much a grab as a pull?” Laura ran her finger up the side of the lightsaber, the metal battered but still shining dully. “I mean, for sure you can grab it, but that’s a lot more conscious thought.” 

Carmilla tore her gaze away from Laura’s lightsaber and tried to beat back her inner child, who still wanted one. Carmilla owning a lightsaber would never end well. She had too many enemies. “So you just… yank?”

Laura nodded. “You just want it in your hand, know where it is, and pull.” Laura’s gaze was in the middle distance, focused on knowledge. Carmilla ran a hand down her arm, calling her back to the present. “It works best with things you know well, though. If it’s something you haven’t seen before, you have to actually grab and lift it specifically.”

It didn’t take much thought. Carmilla raised her hand, palm up, and reached with her instincts. The box hit her hand with a solid _thump_ , and Carmilla curled her fingers around it. 

Laura kissed her cheek. “See? I knew you could do it.” For a moment, she fought herself, and then said, “And what’s that?”

Carmilla’s heart raced. “Just a data cube for my presentation for the Senate next week.” She winced, and that wasn’t a lie. “I’ve got to defend my position on regulating the Trade Federation next week.”

Laura made a face at her. She knew how Carmilla felt about the Trade Federation. Master Belmonde had been on Naboo, and her tales of the depravity were legendary. “I see. Any luck with that so far?” 

“What do you think?” 

Another face. Carmilla laughed, and Laura pushed a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “I guess not.”

Carmilla’s gaze fell to the lightsaber again, and Laura caught the motion. She picked it up, the weapon easy in her hand. Then, she held it out. “My lightsaber is my life. So, I’d like you to hold it.”

In the early days, Carmilla had done a lot to try and get a hand on that lightsaber. More than anything, she’d always wanted to get her hands on a real one, study it, learn it, use it. 

Carmilla pushed it back, gently. “Cutie, you’re already my life. I don’t need to hold your lightsaber to prove it."

“Oh,” Laura squeaked. She dropped the lightsaber back into their laps, but she didn’t look away. “I. Thanks?”

“But if you’re looking for dramatic gestures, then…” and Carmilla’s voice caught in her throat. The words had seemed so easy this morning. Well, they hadn’t, but they hadn’t stuck themselves to her throat like they were now. She offered her own gift to Laura, and it felt a lot less important than what Laura had tried to do. The box she’d summoned seemed tiny. “Marry me?” 

“Oh, Carm,” Laura said, and smothered her. Laura hugged tight for such a small woman, but she made use of all of her prodigious strength. “Yes.” 

“Great,” Carmilla managed to say, and then they tipped the chair right over. Laura landed on top of her, her hands braced beside Carmilla’s head so she didn’t squash her completely. Laura’s borrowed dress was paper thin compared to her usual robes, and Carmilla could feel every difference. “I love you.” 

Laura rolled the ring with her thumb, a simple thing that she could pass as meaningless trinket. Shadows fell across her face, the sun finally gone down. “I love you too."

 

* * *

 

Carmilla arranged the marriage as fast as she could. It only took a couple days — she would have been able to make it happen even sooner if she hadn’t had to do it discreetly. 

Jedi weren’t allowed to get married, after all. That meant whatever they were doing, it wasn’t official. They wouldn’t be married in anyone’s eyes but their own. 

Nobody had taken Laura off protection duty, even though there had to be more pressing things that needed tending. Mother _was_  Supreme Chancellor, and she had more sway over the Jedi than they admitted. Anything to keep darling Carmilla safe. Anything to keep her under surveillance. 

Unluckily for her, Laura was on Carmilla’s side. 

 

* * *

  

They held the ceremony on Naboo. It was wonderful to be home, back by the lakes of Carmilla’s childhood. They had always been Carmilla’s first refuge. Carmilla had always loved the enveloping coolness of water more than she’d loved the warmth of fire.  

It was easy to get back to her home planet. She was allowed to take vacations, after all, and Naboo was a predictable place to go. Everyone went home eventually. 

Laura accompanied her as her protector, of course. It would have been absurd not to have her there. Anything could happen! Like them getting married. That could definitely happen.

PER-E officiated, with all the anxious fussing over the exact phrasing until Laura broke down in giggles, down by the lake, her hair full of Naboo’s wildflowers. Carmilla smiled at her, her own hair falling dark and lush around her face, spotted with the same white blossoms. 

“…and do you promise to love each other?"

Laura beamed at her. The lake hushed behind her, and even the trees seemed to still. “I do.”

“Until the worlds fall apart."

They were happy.

 

* * *

 

Giddily, impossibly happy.

 

* * *

 

Back on Coruscant, a blissful age later, Laura laughed so hard she finally slipped, her blade spinning into the corner of Carmilla’s curtains before shutting off. Laura had sheepishly admitted that she had a more sensitive auto-off sensor than most people did, since she’d dropped her lightsaber so much as a padawan.  

Laura went brighter red than Carmilla had ever seen her. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! Your curtains! I get an allowance, I can-“

“Laura. Calm down. I’m a Senator. I can afford a new set of curtains.” 

Laura was adorable flushed. Carmilla took her face in her hands and kissed her, long and luxuriously. It was a dream to be able to do this, after months of pretending. God, they had been so blind.  

Laura was the first to break away, as she usually was. Even in Carmilla’s secure apartments, she was so afraid they’d get caught. She wasn’t worried for herself — she’d assured Carmilla that she could take whatever punishment the Jedi Council wanted to levy on her. It was the prospect of never being able to see Carmilla again that got to her. 

“I was just waiting to see you off,” Laura admitted. Her fingers played against her shut off lightsaber. “I’ve got to head back to the Temple. They need me."

“What happened to protecting me?” Carmilla said, and laughed at the look on Laura’s face. “I’m just joking, cupcake. I’ll be fine.”

Laura crossed her arms. It was the opposite of threatening. Carmilla wanted to scoop her wife up in her arms and carry her away from anything that irritated her. “You better be. I’ll be back tonight, unless the Council needs me to babysit in the crèche again."

“You can count on me, cutie. I’d never do anything without official Jedi approval.” Laura waved her ring at Carmilla, and she rolled her eyes. “And by that, I mean you. You’re the only Jedi I listen to.”

“I like to hear that,” Laura said, and kissed her one last time. 

Carmilla took her time changing into a Coruscant-worthy outfit and getting her flimis in order. The Senate wasn’t in order today, so she had plenty of time. 

There was a short rap at the door, and Carmilla smiled down at her stack. “Back already?” Carmilla called, and turned. Her heart dropped out of her chest. 

Maman stood in the door, and all of a sudden the lightness and love Laura had woven into the apartment was swallowed by dread.

“Carmilla, darling. We have things to talk about.”

 

* * *

 

It was easy. Meet Laura somewhere abandoned, having given her guards the slip. She did it often enough that it wouldn’t be suspicious, not with Laura around. Nobody really knew what they meant to each other, but they knew enough. A Jedi was more than enough protection, even for a Senator. 

All Carmilla had to do was open her window to let in the fresh air, and it would all be over. 

Carmilla had begged until her throat was raw to be able to tell Laura, but she’d already known the answer. Lilita Morgan didn’t believe the innocent little Jedi (nobody was innocent anymore, not in this war) would put up a convincing show. Maman knew what it meant to Carmilla, so she said no. 

“It’s amazing that we managed to get a break at around the same time,” Laura said, rummaging through the picnic basket Carmilla had made that morning. She had made the chocolate chip cookies herself. One last gift. “Oh! Cookies!”

“You’re practically sixty percent chocolate at this point, cupcake. It would be a cruel and unusual punishment to keep them from you.” Carmilla snagged one, brushing a soft kiss onto Laura’s cheek. “And not the kind I know you like, cutie.”

Laura flushed bright red, but didn’t deny it. She took a bite of the cookie, and closed her eyes, sighing with joy. “Oh, Carm, these are delicious. Did you make them?”

Carmilla drank her in, unashamed to be staring, so far from the city. Mother had picked the warehouse, one with an office tower, the top levels abandoned. Laura seemed to shimmer through the Force, contented and beyond. "I have to keep some of my secrets... otherwise I'll lose my air of mystery, won't I?"

“I hate to break it to you, Carm, but your air of oh-so-special mystery? It’s long gone.” Laura moved closer, climbing up onto Carmilla’s lap. She wasn’t heavy, for all the strength she possessed. Jedi were made of something else entirely. 

“It’s odd for you to be taller than me,” Carmilla mused. 

Laura shoved her shoulder, almost tipping them back. Her grin belied her words. “I’m an inch shorter than you!”

Carmilla stretched, as much as she could. “It seems like more from up here. Maybe you should get your height checked, you might’ve shrunk in the rain.”

Laura laughed, leaning in to rest her forehead on Carmilla’s shoulder. “Oh, Carm. What would I do without you?”

Carmilla shivered, the reality of her situation crashing back down on her. She moved Laura off her lap, ignoring her wife's pout. The cookie tasted like ash in her mouth, but she ate it anyway. Laura leaned against her, a steady support. 

“I’ve heard we’re going to be generals.” 

Carmilla blinked over at Laura, her attempt at eating forgotten. “What?”

Laura shrugged, moved to sit upright on her own. Carmilla ached to reach for her, but this wasn’t the time. She couldn’t do this to Laura. “The Jedi,” Laura clarified. “The war is scaling up. They have plenty of troops, what with the clones, but they need commanders.”

Carmilla’s stomach twisted. Something else Mother had _forgotten_  to tell her. Nothing to distract her darling Carmilla at the final stages of her plan. Mother needed her out of the public eye, needed a trusted informant on the blooming war. She had some link to Vordenburg that Carmilla had never been able to weasel out of her, and maybe distance would help her find it.  

There wasn’t a source more trusted than her darling daughter. She made it seem like Carmilla was getting the lions share — credits, a finally granted independence, a break from the Senate, and a guarantee that Laura wouldn’t suddenly, quietly disappear. So small in exchange for a month gone! A pitiful price for a mound of gold.

“I’ll let in some air,” Carmilla said, only slightly to Laura. Her blood was singing in her veins, everything in her screaming at her not to do it, not to get up. 

She did. 

_Just open the window_ , Mother had said, _and it’ll all be over. You want to save your precious little Jedi, don’t you?_  

Carmilla heaved open the window, letting in the dank Coruscant air and warmth from the last of the sunlight, just beginning to set over the West City. For a second, she could almost pretend nothing was wrong. Laura giggled behind her, something about the chocolate or the cookies or whatever else Carmilla had packed for their perfect, impossible day. 

The shot was fast. A single blaster bolt, right to her shoulder. Carmilla spasmed, the pain enough to tip her right out the window. Then she was falling, beams wrapping around her to slow her descent. Something bit in at her heel, and her vision wavered. Just before she hit, Carmilla felt a desperate tug around her, but Laura’s focus was too fragmented, too late. She hit, and everything blinked out. 

 

* * *

 

When Carmilla died in Laura’s arms, the resulting wave of the Force was enough to level their floor. She heard of it later, the weeping Jedi near-glowing with grief, carrying Carmilla out of the wreckage of the warehouse with utmost gentleness. 

  

* * *

 

Carmilla woke in a dark place in her mother’s care, a wildflower woven into a braid behind her ear. She’d hidden it before Mother could get wind of it, pressed into the tissue ripped from her medical bed. 

The transformation was easy. Dye some pink streaks in her hair, pull it up high, fake a tattoo across her cheek. Nothing too permanent or high tech, but Carmilla hardly recognized herself in the mirror. The tattoo made her cheeks seem more drawn, and her eyes were dark with misery. With the lines of her face exposed, she looked paler than she had been in months. 

She looked like a bounty hunter — nothing to lose, everything to gain. She almost wished that was true. 

Lilita’s silent servants gave Carmilla holsters, unrecognizably expensive blasters, fake documents, directions to a ship for her in a seedy spaceport not far from Carmilla’s old apartments. She didn’t think about Laura, likely huddled in the dark, alone. Laura had a key, but she didn’t know if it would still work when Carmilla was registered as dead. 

After that thought, it was easy to flee Coruscant. 

 

* * *

 

Mircalla grew in reputation among the bounty hunters. Everyone knew she had assassinated Senator Karnstien, and everyone’s friend’s friend’s cousin had tried that, once upon a time. Mircalla was the only one who had walked away alive. 

Carmilla didn’t feel alive. Without Laura, she felt hollow.

Mircalla was lethal where Carmilla had only ever wanted to be soft. Mircalla was a wallflower, unnoticed, where Carmilla would have commanded the attention of the room. Carmilla remade herself into everything her mother had ever wanted. 

The people of the planet Silas were being overtaken by… something. Carmilla could feel something wrong the moment she landed on the surface. She’d been forced to make use of her Force abilities to stay alive as a bounty hunter, and they were more aware than they’d ever been. There was _something_  in the Force, but it wasn’t the seeping darkness Carmilla had expected. It was a searing, oppressive _light_. Something was flooding the Force with commands and influence, and even Carmilla was barely able to resist it. 

Carmilla was just supposed to gather information, but she knew her mother. That meant she was to gather the source as well. Lilita could never, ever have this power. Carmilla could claim it was too much, claim she was threatened. She had to kill it, whatever it was. 

Laura would have been able to deal with this. She was a light to rival this thing, but where this thing was cold and awful, she was warmth and kindness. Laura- 

Was home. Laura was safe. Her mother had promised. 

_I’ve heard we’re going to be generals,_  Laura’s voice whispered, but Carmilla ignored it. 

 

* * *

 

Carmilla slid onto a stool at the local skeezy bar, the same as it would have been anywhere. Dimly lit, most likely so the owner didn’t attract the authorities with their energy use. Weapons bristled off legs and arms and other assorted appendages. The Force hummed with energy, a pool of fuel just waiting for a spark. 

The bartender, a grizzled Twi’lek that could have been any colour in this poorly lit, cheap hole in the ground. “What do you want?” She sounded about as pleased to be there as Carmilla was, which was saying something. 

Carmilla didn’t look up from her study of the grain on the table. The more she looked, the less it looked like wood and more looked like calcified bantha hide. “I want Lophii. I’ve heard they’re around here somewhere.”

“Never heard of them,” the bartender said, and went to serve a leering Weequay. Carmilla waited for her to swing back around, but this time she had a bag of credits in front of her. The Twi’lek raised an eyebrow. “Lophii, you said?”

Carmilla was led to a back room, her skin crawling. She didn’t know how the rest of the patrons, lingering in the hallways covered in the smell of smoke, didn’t sense it. Their eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark hallway, and she had the uneasy feeling that it wasn’t just a species quirk. Even the grumpy bartender had subsided. 

“In here,” she said, and her voice was suddenly inflected with a Core accent, not the drawling Outer Rim one she’d had only minutes before. “Don’t expect anyone to come if you call for help."

“Charming,” Carmilla said, and pushed open the door. 

Lophii was everything Carmilla had pictured through the light blanketing the Force. They could have been any other bounty hunter, with their shaved head and layers of swaddled leather. The only distinguishing was their species — one Carmilla had never seen before. Hovering on a tendril in the middle of their forehead was a small, burning light. Just looking at it made Carmilla’s mind scream.  

“Mircalla.” 

Carmilla forced herself to relax, bolstering her shields that Laura… oh, that _Laura_  had made her aware of, all that time ago. “That’s me. I’ve heard you’ve got a big mission happening and I want in.”

Carmilla and Mircalla were blunt. It was the one thing Carmilla hadn’t changed about herself. 

“You know nothing, little girl,” Lophii said, and instead of reclining back, leant in. The light on their forehead shone brighter, and Carmilla’s shields screeched under the strain. Carmilla clung hard to the idea of Laura, the idea she would be able to go back home, and they held. Two more weeks. Two weeks and she’d be able to leave this life behind. “Don’t bother me again.”

Carmilla stood her ground, even as the light grew. For the first time in her life, her Force senses were completely blank, flooded with stinging light. She felt blinded. “I _said_  I wanted a job. Do you have a better candidate?” 

Lophii stared her down, unblinking. Their eyes looked bugged, like their light was enough to blind even them. Carmilla didn’t dare make another move. 

“Fine,” Lophii gravelled, and Carmilla let her shoulders drop. Lophii’s voice had the same Core inflections as the bartender had, that odd frozen moment. “But one mistake, and you’re dead.” 

That wasn’t anything new. “Fine,” Carmilla said back, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are we going? Tell me everything."

“You’ll get what you need. Which right now means nothing. Shut your mouth and follow."

Carmilla shut her mouth and followed. Lophii moved fast, each movement simultaneously jerky and fluid. They didn’t just move like an alien — they moved like they were based in a different reality. Uneasily, Carmilla thought about the missing people. Where had they gone? Laura would never forgive her if she became one of them. 

Then again, Laura might not forgive her, regardless.

 

* * *

 

Lophii had guided her to a speeder, an obviously stolen model Carmilla had seen senators use back on Coruscant. The trip was quick, the city limits zipping away. 

They had a ship and cargo now, or that’s what Lophii had told her. She let them believe she didn’t care. The number of credits Lophii had reeled off as her reward for this mission was off the charts. Even Carmilla didn’t pay her assistants that much, and she was one of the most generous in the Senate. 

Carmilla’s skin was prickling, and it felt like something was wrong with the Force, something other than Lophii. Something felt imminent, and it was putting her on edge. 

Lophii had long since finished negotiating with whoever used to own their ship, and was gearing it up for flight. Carmilla hadn’t seen any cargo loaded, but Lophii wouldn’t have taken them out to the middle of nowhere for just a rundown ship. Those were easy to get, even in places as suspect as the bar they’d been languishing in when Carmilla barged in. 

Carmilla was stalking around the field, examining the ship for flaws, when another ship tore through the atmosphere. Carmilla recognized it instantly, and the skill with which the pilot was bringing it in. Not just anybody could have kept a ship from immolating with that kind of violent entry.  

Carmilla stood frozen as the ship landed, the ramp unfurling to touch the ground. The light tugged at her in the Force, urging her back to the ship, but she stood her ground. She wanted- she wanted- it had been so long since she’d seen Laura. 

It was when Laura made her way down the ramp that Carmilla realized what a horrible mistake she’d made by not running. 

Laura wasn’t the calm and contended entity Carmilla remembered, glowing softly. Laura screamed in the Force, a gale of pain and rage. She stalked for Carmilla like nothing she’d ever seen before. For the first time, Carmilla understood why everyone had always been so terrified of their tiny Chosen One. 

“You killed her,” Laura said, and it was all the more frightening for the steely calm. Carmilla had her hands on her sheathed blasters, but she didn’t think they’d be much use. “Carmilla Karnstein. You shouldn’t have done that.”

Carmilla forced herself back into Mircalla’s uncaring drawl. It was stupid to antagonize Laura when she was like this, but she didn’t have a choice. She needed to find out Lophii’s contact. “What, honey? Was she that much of a smooth talker that you thought she cared?”

Laura ignited her lightsaber, and Carmilla couldn’t help her flinch. Laura smiled, vicious. “You don’t understand, but that’s alright, _Mircalla_. You’ll die either way.”

“I’d really rather not.” 

“Well, you gave up your rights to that choice the second you killed a _defenceless_  Senator for what, money?” Laura shook her head, and her anger in the Force swelled. “You had no idea who she was, what she’d done. Nothing could have been worth removing her from the world."

“Laura,” Carmilla breathed, sparing a glance for Lophii, scowling impatiently from their place in the cabin. She could feel their patience fading, the devouring light in the Force growing. “Please. Don’t do this.”

“You don’t get to say my name,” Laura said, and lunged. Carmilla managed to duck the first swing and hit the ground, rolling and sweeping Laura’s legs out from under her feet. It didn’t work as well as she’d hoped — Laura just rolled and popped back up again, her teeth bared. “Nice try.”

“I thought so too,” Carmilla panted, and with every scrap of the Force she had, ripped Laura’s lightsaber out of her hand and sent it flying. Laura stared at, her eyes wide enough they seemed to reflect the awful light in the Force.  

“How did you-“

Carmilla tried to hit her, but even startled, Laura was far too fast. She booted Carmilla with all her might, and Carmilla went flying under the ship. The engine roared above her.  

“That was a kick,” Carmilla groaned, and flopped onto her back. Her hair had tumbled down around her shoulders for the first time in months, and her face was smeared in mud. She staggered to her feet in time to meet Laura’s fist with her face. Her vision blacked for a second, refocusing in time to see Laura looming over her, her lightsaber back in her hand, the blade at her throat. “Ow.”

Laura snarled, but just as soon as she’d done it, her expression faltered. Her hand started shaking, the lightsaber almost dipping to scorch Carmilla’s neck. “Carm?”

Carmilla closed her eyes and swore. Her hair. The mud on her cheek must’ve obscured the tattoo. Laura wasn’t stupid, not even half-mad with grief. “Cupcake.”

Laura’s lightsaber closed down, and her wife was hugging the life out of her. The light seemed to withdraw from Carmilla’s mind for the first time in a week, repelled by Laura’s overwhelming joy. “You’re- you’re-“

“Alive,” Carmilla said, and even though she hated herself, she grabbed for Laura, her arm locking tight around her wife’s neck. Laura struggled against her, batting uselessly at Carmilla’s body, the unbeatable force of earlier reduced to weak flailing. Her mind winked out in the Force, and Carmilla let her go before anything else happened. She stood slowly, painfully, watching Laura, sleeping in the dirt, her chest moving slowly. “Don’t follow me, Laura.”

Lophii welcomed her back to the ship with a clap on the back for defeating a Jedi. “Of course,” they said, “I’ll get the next one.”

Carmilla watched the stars streak into lines as hyperdrive engaged, and nodded. Lophii could deal with Danny or whoever else had been with Laura, leaning over her prone body in the earth while the ship zoomed into the atmosphere. She didn’t trust herself to speak the proper words. 

 

* * *

 

Lophii landed them on Florrum, of all places. It was the first place Carmilla would have expected for racketeering, with Elsie being who she was, but the pirate had never seemed particularly interested in picking a side.  

“Stay on the ship,” Lophii growled, before they’d even disembarked. They seemed to trust Carmilla more now that she hadn’t made a move on anything but the caf, but it was far from trust. Even choking out a Jedi wasn’t enough for that. “You move from this ship? I’ll know.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Carmilla yawned theatrically. Elsie would have recognized her, anyway, and that was a pile of poodoo she didn’t want to step in. “I’ll catch a few winks while you putter about on your secret business. Don’t wait up.” 

Lophii disembarked with one last glare, leaving Carmilla with the ship to explore.

They’d bought the ship and the cargo from the most disreputable Gungan Carmilla had ever met. Carmilla had been half tempted to ask him what he was doing off Naboo, but on second thought, she didn’t want to know. So, while the ship worked well enough to get them into space, it was still a Gungan design, and Carmilla knew it like the back of her hand. 

She still wished she had LA-F with her, though. They always were better than she was at finding things. It came with having a scanner. She missed that damn droid. It would have cheered her up, too. 

The first three potential smugglers holds were empty, still crammed with redundant wiring and in the third case, half-woven reed baskets.

Gungans. Carmilla was glad she’d never been elected as Naboo’s queen, as much as her mother had pushed for it. She didn’t have the patience for petitioning peasants. 

The fourth potential hidey hole was where Carmilla hit pay dirt. The crates were crammed into every inch of spare space. With a quick scan to make sure Lophii’s awful glow was still a good distance off, Carmilla cracked one open. 

Her heart skipped a beat. She recognized the tech — and no wonder Lophii was on Florrum. Elsie always had the most illegal things she could get her grimy little pirate hands on, regardless of the dangers. 

Lophii had crates and crates full of Force-supressing technology. All switched off, for now. But Carmilla knew what this meant. The only use this sort of technology had was to be used against Jedi. 

Her mother was due to be protected by a legion of Jedi in her upcoming speech. The combination could only mean one thing — Lophii was meant to do something to Maman. Kidnap, kill, Carmilla didn’t particularly care which. Knowing her mother, though, that wasn’t all there was. She had connections of both sides of the blossoming war, nothing like this would be happing without her consent.  

Mother could _not_  get her hands on Lophii. That would be…. God, she didn’t even want to think about it. Entire worlds would fall. She had been right. She needed to kill Lophii, and destroy this tech. 

If she remembered right, she might be able to do both in one fell swoop. Carmilla resealed the crate and compartment before heading to the engine room. She popped the grate off the flooring, staring down at the nearly unintelligible wires and piping. 

Bless Laura. Carmilla had always complained about the constant mechanical prattling, but this was saving her life. With one last score on the casing of the engine, Carmilla crawled back out of the space. The light was growing again, along with Carmilla’s headache. She hadn’t realized how much it was affecting her until Lophii had backed off.  

But she had it. She had what she needed. After three and a half weeks, a fight with Laura, faking her death, it would be over.  

Carmilla wanted to go _home_.

Maybe Florrum had been a good stop after all. Elsie was a wild card, but she could be helpful. Though she was about as Force sensitive as a brick, she wasn’t stupid, and she certainly wasn’t easily influenceable. All Carmilla needed was enough help to kill Lophii. They’d served their purpose. 

Carmilla hastily slammed down that train of thought when the ship’s door creaked open, and Lophii came stomping in. She feigned sleep on the floor, praying the grate had slipped properly back into the floor. 

“Mircalla! Up. It’s time to go.”

Carmilla blinked blearily up at Lophii. “Already?”

“ _Now_.”

“Fine.”

It was a short trip back to the cockpit, and Carmilla slid into the copilot’s seat with a minimum of complaint. The takeoff was smooth, and for a second Carmilla was petrified that she hadn’t remembered well enough, that she’d done it wrong, that her sabotage wasn’t going to work and she was going to die on this ship.

Lophii set the coordinates, a short jump to what Carmilla recognized as Elsie’s loading point. They were picking something up. More Force suppressing technology? Carmilla really, really wouldn’t put it past Elsie. 

And- Carmilla had nearly forgotten. Elsie had captured Laura and Danny, once upon a time. It was before Carmilla had met them, but Laura never missed a chance to grumble about it. The Chosen One wasn’t used to being caged — though she didn’t seem to notice that was what the Jedi Order was all about. Calling her some saviour was just another way to weigh her down. 

Then there was an explosion from the back, and the nose dipped back down. Carmilla pounded frantically at the console, trying to keep them from crashing _too_  dramatically. She wanted Lophii dead, but not at the cost of her own skin. 

“What’s happening?” Lophii roared, and Carmilla was nearly battered out of her chair with the raw panic. She barely managed to keep upright and piloting. “What have you done?”

“Nothing!” Carmilla snapped. The controls were starting to fritz out, and they were still a good ways above Florrum’s surface. This was bad. “You’re the one who bought us this shitty ship! It must’ve had a fault in the engines!”

“Fix it!”

“ _We’re crashing_!”

They hit the ground hard, the ship ripping away in pieces around them. Carmilla was thrown through the view screen and hit the ground, rolling hard with transparisteel shards in her hair. The light screamed in her head, in pain. The ground shook, and Carmilla had just enough wits about her to see Lophii shoot out of the ship, launched into the sky as it exploded behind them.

She really shouldn’t have tried to mess with the engine. She _might’ve_  gone overboard. When she got home, she was going to blame Laura for this. 

Carmilla rolled onto her side, then her knees. Getting up was unduly painful, but she managed it. She bent over, hands on her knees, her ribs aching. Her arms stung, punctured with transparisteel. A shadow fell over her face, and Carmilla looked up into a face, framed with blonde curls. She couldn’t suppress a groan. 

Elsie stared at her, half-smirking. Carmilla spoke before she could, which was a risk. Elsie didn’t like being interrupted. “I’m Mircalla. Bounty hunter. You must be Elsie.”

Elsie’s eyebrows went up. She looked at Lophii, stalking towards them, clearly in earshot, and then back at Carmilla. She had her plotting face on, which meant the situation was about as bad as it could get. “You’re the ones that wanted the pricey crates? I have to say, you don’t look like you can afford them.”

Lophii snarled at one of Elsie’s minions. He quailed back, even his boss’s unimpressed scowl not enough to deter him. “I _paid_  already.”

“Yes, but then you crashed your ship.” Elsie glanced over at the steaming wreckage, and it exploded a little more for her convenience. "Who’s going to do the cleanup? Me? No."

 Carmilla staggered towards Elsie’s group a little more, accentuating her injuries. Her arms were slicked with blood from the dozens of tiny cuts, which helped. It stung like lava. As soon as she was close enough, she whispered, “Kill them.”

Elsie ignored her, though the blue Twi’lek next to her gave the both of them an incredulous look. “If you want the goods, fine, but you aren’t going anywhere without buying a ship and a cleaning service." 

Carmilla obviously wasn’t being clear enough. She drew her blaster with a steady hand and shot Lophii, right between their eyes. The shot, even as overpowered as Mother’s blasters were, bounced right off the little light nodule. 

Lophii roared at her, and the light pulsed. The closest man, a Weequayan with a heavily tattooed forehead, stumbled forwards. The second his hand made contact with Lophii, there was an unbearable flash of light and he was gone. Lophii burned in the Force, the same rippling rage that Laura had when she’d thought Carmilla was dead. 

That was why people were disappearing. That was how Lophii was sustaining their impossible power. 

There wasn’t time to consider the repercussions of Carmilla’s realization. Elsie barked an order, and her minions rained down fire on Lophii. They sent a great deal of it scattering with the Force, and Carmilla had to duck and weave to avoid it, wishing not for the first time that she had a lightsaber. 

Even through the screaming of the firefight, Carmilla could hear Elsie sigh. She pulled something from her pocket, pushed a button, and Carmilla’s knees went out from underneath her. The Force was suddenly and completely gone.  

Lophii had the same reaction. Their shielding was gone, their precognition a distant memory. The volley took them down faster than Carmilla could drag in a ragged breath. 

Elsie looked down at her, unimpressed, and hit the button again. The Force flooded back, and Carmilla’s heart slowed, ease spreading out through her limbs. She hadn’t realized how much she had been drawing on it until it was removed. 

She hadn’t realized how much she depended on Laura, either, until she couldn’t. 

“Remote activation,” Elsie said, and examined her nails. Carmilla stood, slowly. “Always a smart idea. Unlike you. I don’t think you’ve ever had one of those in your life. What was that, exactly?”

“Thanks, Elsie.” Carmilla said. One of her minions snorted. She could smell smoke, blaster fire, and Lophii’s scorched flesh. She didn’t look down at the body. “I had to get them to attack me so you’d do something. They needed to die. I appreciate your help.”

“I appreciate the spice your _colleague_  there paid us for this tech, that we now get to keep.” Elsie scowled. “You really _did_  make a mess, though. I expect to be compensated."

Carmilla sighed. “Of course you do.” Hope was growing in her chest, steadily, as much as she tried to ignore it. “I’d appreciate getting off this planet, if you don’t mind. I have to get back to Coruscant. The Supreme Chancellor can hire a cleaning service.” 

“That’s satisfactory for the mess, but the ship?” Elsie tsked. She looked at Carmilla like Carmilla was a naughty child. “You don’t have anything I want.” Elsie looked a little like a washed out peacock, her clothes all puffy and her hat tipped jauntily off to one side as if even it didn’t care about the smoking corpse of the alien at her feet. “Unless… Those blasters. Are they the unreleased model?"

Carmilla’s hand went to cover them. They had been all she had this past month. Those blasters had saved her life. Mother wouldn’t be pleased…

Screw Mother. Carmilla wanted to go home. Carmilla let her hands drop off the holsters, and her shoulders slumped. “What of it?”

Elsie tapped her chin, considering. Blood dripped between Carmilla’s fingers. “Well… if you could part with them… I might have a shuttle that I don’t need.” 

Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “A shuttle?”

“On second thought-“ 

Carmilla all but growled. “ _Fine_.” She unbuckled her holster belt, holding it out towards Elsie. It felt deeply wrong. Any second now, Lophii was going to rise and Carmilla would be defenceless. Those blasters had been Carmilla’s lifeline.  

It was time to go home and find her old one. 

Elsie snapped her fingers, and one of her indistinguishable minions leapt out to grab it, holding it gingerly like they might explode. To be fair, they might. Carmilla hadn’t been kind to them this past month. Or it could’ve been the blood, left in a handprint where Carmilla had touched it. “Thank you, _Mircalla_. The shuttle will be down momentarily."

Carmilla faked a smile. All she could think of now was Laura. She was so close to being home.

 

* * *

 

 A snarling Weequayan, identical to the one that had been absorbed, dropped off Carmilla’s shuttle. It was just as terrible as Carmilla had known it would be — it would be a miracle if it was space worthy. 

Carmilla ran all the checks she knew, and as far as the instrumentation was telling her, they were ready to go. So she went, leaving the wreckage of the ship and of Mircalla behind. She never wanted to see either of them again. 

She reached out to the Force, as useless as it was, and whispered, _I’m coming_.

 

* * *

 

Carmilla made it to Coruscant in record time, and into her apartments just before the sun went down. The painted colours across the skyline made it feel like she’d stepped back in time, when she was curled up with Laura in that very chair.  

Carmilla opened the door, and all the breath fled her body. Laura _was_  in the chair, her head tipped back, her legs curled up underneath her. She almost looked like she was sleeping, but for her eyes, bright in the dark. “Carm?"

Carmilla’s memory could never have done Laura justice. Her wife was a creature beyond description. She was _home_. She was Carmilla’s home, and Carmilla had never loved her more. 

Laura launched herself at Carmilla and they hit hard, gripping tight. Carmilla half-noticed she was shaking, or maybe Laura was. They were so tightly intertwined that she couldn’t tell. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said, and her words tumbled away. “I’m sorry for leaving you. I’m sorry for fighting you. I’m so sorry, Laura. I’m sorry.”

Laura brushed her hair back from her face, the first time Carmilla had thought about her hair in a month. “It's okay. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it."

Carmilla shut her eyes and leant into Laura’s touch. “Do you forgive me?” 

"Of course."

Carmilla kissed her, sweet and long. 

They talked and talked, standing, until Laura guided them both back to the chair. The sun sunk, the lights came on, and still they talked. There was a month to catch up on. A month to relive.  

Laura refused to let go of Carmilla, which broke her heart. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of what it must have been like for Laura. It would have broken her.

It might’ve broken Laura. She handled Carmilla like she was made of glass. It was so far from the girl built of rage Carmilla had fought. She didn’t know if that was who Laura was, deep down. She refused to believe it.  

Carmilla held her wife’s hand tight. “What have you been doing since I’ve been gone?” It felt good to grin. It had been a long, long time since she’d been able to tease anyone. "Did you get assigned to the new Naboo senator? Have I been replaced?" 

Laura furrowed her brows, not catching the lightened mood. “The Supreme Chancellor held your seat empty-“

Carmilla’s smile dropped back into familiar dread. “What? She can’t do that!”

Laura looked down at their clasped hands, biting her lip. Carmilla held on to her. “I don’t really know, but Master Belmonde was muttering about a bill. She didn’t seem to think very highly of it.” 

Damn Mother. She’d passed something because Carmilla wasn’t there to rally against it. Lilita Morgan was gathering power to herself, like Lophii’s sickening light. Carmilla felt sick just thinking about what she could do with it. “Alright,” she said, and drew Laura back into an embrace. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” Laura whispered, the sound nearly lost into Carmilla’s shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too."

 

* * *

 

Laura left with apologies on official Jedi business, and the apartment felt empty without her. There was still dust over the tops of Carmilla’s books, where the droids had forgotten to clean in her absence. Even though she was home again, it didn’t feel like home. Not with Laura gone. 

Carmilla scrubbed down her books, got halfway through a book she hadn’t read before leaving, before the silence got too much. She turned on her personal Holonet, looking for some mindless holodrama when the messages caught her eye. There were dozens. She had been gone for a month, but Carmilla had been _dead_. Who would have called her?

She opened the folder and had to sit down, the device groaning in her tight grip. Message after message from Laura, scattered over the month. Some were only a couple seconds long, while others were hours. Carmilla pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes burning. Oh, what had she done to Laura?

Carmilla selected one near the middle, one minute long. It was all she thought she could handle, with the way Laura had touched her, trembling and disbelieving. 

The hologram sprang up, the speakers taxed and vibrating. 

Blood streaked through Laura’s braided hair, her lightsaber flashing. Kirsch was shouting from behind her, staggering in and out of the frame. Blaster shots screamed all around of them, droids screaming and sparking in the distance. 

Laura’s face was set in stone, caked with mud and who knows what else. Kirsch fired from her side, the noise of the blaster almost overpowering her words. “We can’t hold them back! Move, move, move!” And then she seemed to look right at Carmilla and said, “I’m sorry. I loved you." 

And then it cut out, leaving Carmilla with the one last image of Laura falling back, clutching at her arm. They must have hit her comm, breaking it off her wrist. 

Laura was still alive and well, obviously, but Carmilla couldn’t clear the image from her mind. What had happened to her? Had she been captured? Carmilla wanted to kill someone, Mircalla’s blasters ghosting at her sides. All of a sudden, she could feel blood on her hands.  

Carmilla shut it off, placing it down with more gentleness than it warranted. 

There was no worse feeling than helplessness. 

 

* * *

 

Carmilla wrangled herself into being present at Laura’s first deployment as General Hollis. Danny was with her, and for once the red giantess’ prescience wasn’t irritating. Carmilla was glad to know Laura would have someone to watch her back. 

They shook hands, as if that was all they were. Laura’s ring was chilled against her warm hands. Carmilla wanted to say something to make this better, but there wasn’t anything. Nothing she could say in front of everyone else, anyway.  

Kirsch, Laura’s captain, waited by the ship, lanky and grinning under his blue-streaked armour. He didn’t seem bothered that they were heading straight out to the front, but he was never bothered by anything. Carmilla wished she could be so cavalier.  

“Good luck,” Carmilla told her wife, and reluctantly, let go. She fisted her hands at her sides, glad she’d worn bell sleeves so nobody could tell how much this was affecting her. She was scared, so damn scared. “Jedi Hollis, I look forwards to your return.” 

“As do I,” Laura said, and bowed. Carmilla saw her for the first time all over again, flushed and aggravated on what she had thought was a dead ended protection assignment. “Best of luck to you as well, Senator.”

Laura turned and walked to the ship, greeting Kirsch with a slap on the shoulder and what must’ve been a joke. Danny rolled her eyes, far above. Carmilla watched them until she couldn’t take it anymore, and turned to stare out onto the horizon.  

Laura had said she would come home. All Carmilla had to do was believe her. 

**Author's Note:**

> The two and a half weeks it took to write this (and the rest of this series) seems a thousand times longer looking back. Thanks again to @LMoriarty for being awesome and laughing at my writing distress.
> 
> And so the stage is set for Even The Stars, They Burn. Players, begin. You can find me on Tumblr at writerproblem193.tumblr.com where this au has consumed my life.


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